Part 72 (1/2)
”Boys run away, sah. 'Fraid ma.s.sa take 'em sell to bad ma.s.sa.”
”Oh no,” said Murray, reaching forward to pat the man upon the shoulder; but the poor fellow's action told its own tale. He started violently, shrinking right away with a look of dread in his eyes. ”There, don't do that,” Murray continued, ”I'm not going to hurt you;” and following the man he patted his shoulder softly, when the look of horror faded away, to give place to a faint smile, one which broadened into a grin.
”Ma.s.sa no take and sell boys away?”
”No; tell them we come to set them free,” said Murray.
”Set n.i.g.g.ah free?” cried the black excitedly.
”Yes; that's why my s.h.i.+p has come.”
”Ma.s.sa Huggin say come catch all de boy an' flog 'em heart out.”
”Did your overseer tell you that, boy?” growled Tom May; and the man winced at the deep fierce voice of the sailor.
”Yes, sah; flog 'em all, sah.”
”Then you tell your Ma.s.sa Huggin he's a liar,” growled the big sailor.
The black showed his teeth in a wider grin than ever as he shook his head.
”No tell um,” he said. ”Ma.s.sa Huggin kill um dead.”
”Where is he now?” said Murray sharply.
”Ma.s.sa Allen sick, sah.”
”No, no; Mr Huggins!”
”Ma.s.sa sailor captain tell Ma.s.sa Huggin--”
”No, no; I'm not going to tell your overseer anything.”
The black looked at the speaker searchingly for a few moments, glanced round as if to see whether they were likely to be overheard; and then, as if gaining confidence, he leaned towards the mids.h.i.+pman and whispered--
”Ma.s.sa overseer go to get men from schooner--fighting men come and kill sailor and burn up s.h.i.+p. Big fire. Burn s.h.i.+p. Burn, kill sailor.
Ma.s.sa no tell what Caesar say?”
”Oh no; I shall not tell Master Huggins, Caesar,” said Murray, smiling.
”Now tell your men to come back and row your boat. I want to find Mr Allen.”
The black looked searchingly in the mids.h.i.+pman's face once more, and then apparently gaining confidence, he turned sharply upon the big sailor, when that which he had gained seemed to be dying out again and he glanced at the sh.o.r.e of the lagoon, and Tom read so plainly that the black was thinking again of flight that he gave him a sharp slap on the shoulder, making him wince violently and utter a low sob.
”Why, you are a pretty sort of fellow,” cried the sailor, his face opening out into a jovial smile. ”You seem to have a nice idee of a British sailor!”
”Bri'sh sailor?” said the black, slowly repeating the tar's words. ”You Bri'sh sailor, hey?”
”To be sure I am, my lad--leastwise I hope so.”
”Bri'sh sailor no hurt poor n.i.g.g.ah?”